Year Four - Chapter Twenty-Two

Children would be children. Students would be students. Some were looking for an easy way to do their homework. Others were genuinely looking for help. Some sought merely the presence of someone who'd understand them without judgment. It was incredibly satisfying to watch how the House-Tropes weren't really all that set in stone. Hardworking Hufflepuffs would sometime look for easy ways out of complex equations, witty Ravenclaws would be stumped at easy things, brave Gryffindors would be scared to as much as open the book on Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the cunning Slytherin would sometimes genuinely thank me for taking the time to help them.

Some even offered sweets, and those weren't laced with anything too.

"Mister Umbrus," the Headmaster said, quite surprised to see me come into his office. "I understand you have been positively busy," he continued.

I stared at the Headmaster with a sigh already forming on my lips, and then took the offered seat in front of his desk. My shoulders slumped. "Those Slytherins will make my heart bleed."

"Oh?" the Headmaster's eyes twinkled, "And why is that?"

"It's because they expect me to ask for something back," I snorted. "A first year even came clutching on to his monthly allowance," I shook my head, and waved a hand in dismissal. "There's something utterly wrong in the way their nature is perceived. Some of them are downright friendly, and yet have little to no contact with the other houses." I glanced up at the hat, "Hey, sorting hat, can I convince you to stop using the Houses as a point of focus and instead-"

"Over my dead, ripped, destroyed leathery form!" the hat bellowed back, twitching in annoyance.

I raised both hands in a placating gesture, "All right, all right, I'm just saying that if there wasn't a Slytherin house, then there wouldn't be Slytherins. The young ones are good kids, and I don't know if they'll end up ruined by time, or by others' perception of them, but..." I grimaced, "there's something vividly unfair in the way they're treated, or looked at, and it ticks me off. Are Slytherins the product of their nature, or is the stamp you throw on them that makes them what they are?"

The Headmaster twitched his fingers, and sherbet lemons appeared together with tea. "It is one's actions that determine whom they are, Mister Umbrus," he said.

"Well, yes, but what if one's actions are determined by one's surroundings?" I retorted. "I'm not saying there won't be bad apples even in a great orchard, but some apples have no choice but to become bad in order to escape the farmer's teeth," I sighed. "It's like, one kindhearted boy can only take so many refusals before he starts to wonder if he's the one at fault, or if someone else is," I glanced up at him. "Slytherins tend to speak to me because I'm not a Gryffindor, did you know that, Headmaster? In their minds, they already perceive Gryffindors as untrustworthy, brutish and foolhardy."

"Even so, rumors and reality are seldom the same thing, Mister Umbrus," the Headmaster said, his brows ever the slightest furrowed.

"Rumors become reality if they're spread long enough, Headmaster," I replied. "Only, it's a free-for-all dunk on the Slytherins from the other three houses. It's thrice the amount of rumors, and it turns the snakes vicious, and rightfully so." I shook my head. "You can't go through a hallway without the Weasley attacking an acceptable target, just because their tie's green. You can't have friends of other houses, because they'll assume you want something out of them. I've had a second year Slytherin girl who tried to make friends, and couldn't because they refused to eat her sweets thinking they were laced with something," I grumbled that last part out. "Things need to change, Headmaster. And you can rest assured that as long as I am here, I will make them change."

I glanced up, at the hat. "You can rest assured I'll get rid of that hat for starters."

"Oi! Threatening me!? I should have put you into Slytherin, you-" the hat exclaimed, only for me to point at it.

"See what I'm saying, Headmaster? The hat itself is Houseist!"

"House...ist?" Dumbledore mouthed. His expression was equal parts puzzled, and surprised. "Mister Umbrus," he remarked. "The Hat has been with Hogwarts since its inception."

"I'm not going to destroy it," I answered, "I'll just shelve it, like, forever. I'll set up dormitories across the castle, make it so they won't have House insignias in them-"

Dumbledore's expression remained ever so slightly perturbed, "Oh? And how would you do that, Mister Umbrus?"

I looked up at the Headmaster, and then slumped my shoulders. "Well, I wouldn't. You could, though."

The Headmaster shook his head, ever so slightly. "I do not think the castle would allow that to happen," his eyes twinkled. "I can see you feel strongly about your fellow students, Mister Umbrus, and since trying to change your mind normally results in headache increasing troubles, I will not attempt it." He took a sip of his tea. "However you can rest assured that nothing more terrible than children being children has ever happened at Hogwarts."

I raised both eyebrows. "Headmaster, you do not need to lie to me," I acquiesced. "Hogwarts is filled with mysteries, but also dangers. I know that intrinsically well." I stared at the Headmaster, "You cannot tell me there has never been a particular accident when Professor Lupin learned at Hogwarts now, can you?"

The Headmaster's eyes clouded ever so slightly, and then he sighed. "I suppose Severus' grudge remained even after all this time, Mister Umbrus," I inwardly cheered at having scored a silent point. "However, had something been done, a child would have been kept from his education; his future would have been ruined even more, for something which was not his fault."

"And the Gryffindor dunderheads were punished with a loss of points and detention," I said, "Which made it nearly all right."

"Technically, even the Slytherin was at fault, for nosing where he shouldn't have," Dumbledore remarked.

"So, theoretically, nosing within Forbidden Corridors should warrant point removal, not addition," I said in turn, cheerfully smiling.

The Headmaster grew quiet, if briefly, and then chuckled. "It appears that time does indeed change someone's outlook on things, Mister Umbrus," his eyes twinkled, and I took another sip of tea.

"Headmaster," I said offhandedly. "Are you familiar with Mister Crouch?"

The Headmaster's brows furrowed ever so briefly, "I do know of him, and of his sternness," he acquiesced. "He is an extremely severe wizard, who has long since forgotten what it means to have heart, I'm afraid."

I twirled the tea within the cup in my hand, took another sip, and then glanced back up at him. "For family, one could do incredible things, and sacrifice much," I said. I took another sip. "There is little a mother's love wouldn't do, and even after its sacrifice, the words would still carry on." I sighed. "Love makes people do foolish things, incredible ones too, but foolish also." I smiled. "Sometimes, the foolishness brings forth great joy. Other times, it brings forth great pain."

"Mister Umbrus," the Headmaster said, his voice low and tight, "Is there something you wish to say?"

I shook my head. "No, Headmaster, there is nothing I wish to say," I answered gently. "For all that needs to be said will instead be done. Let my actions be the testament of whom I am," I grinned, as I finished the tea. I glanced at the tea leafs that remained, which formed little of understandable. It was only a blotch, a dark, wet blotch of tea leafs. "Prophecies are cruel things," I muttered. "They bind one's fate and destiny, they take their free will away, and often they are unavoidable," I sighed, and popped a sherbet lemon in my mouth. "I like to believe that nothing can stand higher than a human's free will, Headmaster."

I sighed. "I sure hope not to be proven wrong in the coming years."

The Headmaster finished his own tea, and twirled it ever so briefly. "Divination was never something I was good at, Mister Umbrus," his eyes twinkled. "Though from what I do know, it is a human that willfully picks his destiny. Prophecies are merely roads. If one does not step upon them, then they cannot lead the wizard anywhere."

I slumped my shoulders. "That is what Oedipus's father thought, before cursing himself and his family with the misfortune of it; Oedipus too fell to it," I grimaced. "The best solution would be to fall on one's own sword after hearing a prophecy concerning their destiny, wouldn't it?"

The Headmaster sighed, and shook his head. "Rest assured, Mister Umbrus, even though prophecies can lead to dark times, they are never capable of going against the decisions a wizard makes."

I gave the Headmaster a bitter smile, and then stood up. "I'll be doing my best, Headmaster, to ensure Hogwarts becomes the school I want it to be before I leave it for my private island," my eyes twinkled. "My children will need to go to a school I feel can give them the best, after all."

"Then, Mister Umbrus, good luck," the Headmaster said.

"Over my dead leather body, you snake with wings!" the hat grumbled from his shelf. "You hear me!?"

I looked up at the hat on the shelf. "Headmaster, can I bring the hat around? Just, you know, Hagrid's dog always has cold ears."

The Headmaster chuckled, and then gently dismissed me.

I left with a smile on my face, and a sigh in my heart.

I needed a chat with Harry Potter...

...only, I didn't expect him to find me first.